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I thought knowing the truth would set me free. That if I could just prove what really happened that night, I could finally let go of the guilt eating me alive.
But it won’t bring back Anne’s mom, her brother or my mother. It won’t erase the years of pain and secrets. It’ll just cause more hurt, more damage.
“Nothing. I’m not here to blackmail you or expose you. I’m here to tell you I’m done. I’m done pretending. I’m done with the guilt. I’m done with you.” And I’m so fucking tired of hurting. “It’s your choice to make. Not mine. It never was mine.”
Dad sinks back into his chair, defeat etched in the new lines around his eyes. “Did he give you this?”
“Yes.”
A ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth. “He’s good for you.”
“Don’t. Don’t try to?—”
“I’m not trying anything, Naomi.” He exhales slowly, shoulders sagging “For once, I just… see you.”
All these years fighting for his attention, and now…
“He makes you stronger. The way you hold yourself. The fire in your eyes.”
“I was always strong.” Brandon taught me that. “You just never noticed.”
“No,” he says softly. “I suppose I didn’t.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy with decades of unspoken words. My fingers find the edge of my sleeve, twisting the fabric.
“The restaurant…” Dad clears his throat. “Will you need?—”
“We’ve got it covered.” I cut him off, chin lifted. “We don’t need your help.”
His nod is small, almost proud.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
“Naomi.” His voice stops me, hand on the doorknob. “The restaurant… when you open…”
I turn and watch him struggle with words that used to come so easily.
“Save me a table?”
I could crush him. Reject this peace offering like he’s rejected me a thousand times before.
Instead, I tilt my head just slightly. “If we have room.”
I leave, each step lighter, passing the spot where I used to sit as a child, doing homework and waiting for scraps of his attention.
That little girl is still there. But she’s not waiting by the door anymore. She’s not holding her breath for scraps of attention.
She’s walking away. And she’s proud. Of the woman I’ve become.
Messy and complicated and beautiful in its imperfection.
I’m free.
I grab my phone.
Anne: Thank you.
Naomi: I know you said to keep it in the past, but I thought you should at least have them.